he thought of her, quite naturally, as the daughter of Peter
Bower.

It was an uproarious pack which greeted them. Every Old Gentleman owned a
dog, and there was Peter's Mamie, two or three eager-eyed pointers,
setters, hounds and Chesapeake Bay dogs. Old Mamie was nondescript, and
was shut up in the kennels to-night only because Eric was away. She was
eminently trustworthy, and usually ran at large.

Toby, given a box to himself, turned his melting eyes upon his master and
whined.

"He was sent to me just before I left New York," Richard explained. "I
fancy he is rather homesick. I am the only thing in sight that he knows."

"You might take him into the house," Anne said doubtfully, "only it is a
rule that if there are many dogs they all have to share alike and stay
out here. When there are only two or three they go into the sitting-room
with the men."

"He can lie down behind the stove in the kitchen," Peggy offered
hospitably. "Mamie does."

Richard shook his head. "Toby will have to learn with the rest of us that
life isn't always what we want it to be."

He was startled by the look which the girl with the lantern gave him.
"Why shouldn't it be as we want it?" she said, with sudden fire; "if I
were Providence, I'd make things pleasant, and you are playing Providence
to Toby. Why not let him have the comfort of the kitchen stove?"

CHAPTER II

_In Which a Princess Serving Finds That the Motto of Kings is
Meaningless._

TOBY, safe and snug behind the kitchen stove, was keenly alive to the
fact that supper was being served. He had had his own supper, so that his
interest was purely impersonal.

Mrs. Bower cooked, and her daughter Beulah waited on the table. The
service was not elaborate. Everything went in at once, and Peter helped
the women carry the loaded trays.

Anne Warfield ate usually with the family. She would have liked to sit
with the Old Gentlemen at their genial gatherings, but it would not, she
felt, have been sanctioned by the Bowers. Their own daughter, Beulah,
would not have done it. Beulah had nothing in common with the jovial
hunters and fishers. She had her own circle of companions, her own small
concerns, her own convictions as to the frivolity of these elderly
guests. She would not have cared to listen to what they had to say. She
did not know that their travels, their adventures, their stored-up
experience had made them rich in anecdote, ready of tongue to tell of
wonders u